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Both magical and mysterious   —   Poetry

I just watched a movie called Trigger Effect, with Elisabeth Shue, Kyle MacLachlan, and Dermont Mulroney. It was made in 1996 and although I don't remember how it faired in the theater, I remember watching it when it came to video all those years ago. It was one of those movies that has just stuck with me all this time, for no good reason really, it's not a great movie. Yet the memories of this film prompted me to rent it again and so I did, and I watched it tonight.

I tell you this not to talk about the movie itself, but a small gem within the movie, a rather magical poem that's read by Elisabeth Shue in hushed whispered tones. It's a children's poem and according to the credits it's called "Bartholomew Biddle and the Very Big Wind", by Gary Ross. But the thing of it is, this poem doesn't really exist. Not in print I mean. I tried researching it and found nothing but postings with people talking about how they can't find it anywhere. There's a peculiar post on the message boards on IMDB.com when you search for Gary Ross. It's a bunch of posts from people asking Gary Ross where this poem is, and it seems, that Gary Ross replied. According to Gary the poem was written by him but never finished. Of course, who knows if that's really Gary Ross posting a reply but really, it's all the information out there on this thing. So, like a crazy person, I went through the movie and hunted down the three sections in which Elisabeth Shue reads the parts of the poem aloud, paper, pen, and pause button at the ready. And so, here it is. Enjoy.

"Bartholomew Biddle and the Very Big Wind"
Written by: Gary Ross

Part I

It was a cold bitter wind and it blew and it blew
It blew through the trees and the little town, too
It blew past the houses where the children were sleeping
It blew through the keyholes where the peepers were peeping
It blew down the streets that were shrouded in slumber
It rattled the roofs right down to the lumber

The wind whistled past lampposts
It screamed over the lake
All in search of a boy who was still wide awake
Bartholomew went to the window and stared
He wasn't much drowsy
He wasn't much scared
He knew that old wind was nothing to fear
With a bed sheet to sail and a pillow to steer
He could ride that old wind right into the night
Take off like a rocket
A Bartholomew kite

But this would be no breeze, it's safe to assume
Granddaddy of winds blown straight to his room

Part II

Bartholomew gazed at his glistening town
Maybe something got lost, but something got found

He'd seen such amazing, mysterious things
He'd seen horses with glasses and canyons that sing
Made all sorts of new friends on the head of a pin
Played a weird game of baseball where the winners don't win

But the biggest adventure he knew lay ahead
All the dreams he could dream
In the warmth of his bed

The End.

This post has since been updated here.

Posted 3.30.2006 10:37:49 PM

Organgrinder wrote:
Man we you want to know something you get obsessed
Posted 4/12/2006 7:34:40 PM
Doll wrote:
It's all a part of my plot to take over the world.
Posted 4/13/2006 1:12:55 PM
KaeLynn wrote:
Thank you I have searched for this off and on for 10 years.
Posted 12/29/2008 3:14:39 AM
RoloTomossie wrote:
I had read that post on IMDB by Gary Ross a few years ago as well. If you notice, there is a deleted thread, which happened to be his response on elaborating on the poem. So many people wanted him to complete it, that he obliged by giving several more lines. I was obsessed with this as well!
Today, I found the pages I had printed out years ago, and luckily I kept them, because he deleted that posting! I was actually going back in the hopes that he had written even more.
Posted 4/6/2009 10:01:41 PM
Doll wrote:
This poem has since been updated with the more lines here http://www.dollface.net/replies.asp?index=419
Posted 4/8/2009 12:28:58 PM
Doll wrote:
News on Gary Ross publishing this poem into a book! Updated post here http://www.dollface.net/replies.asp?index=687
Posted 7/13/2012 6:30:42 PM
Replies are closed for this post.

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